


no man an island

by amuk



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 13:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: Jihyun was used to managing on his own and going blind wouldn’t change that. Now, if only he could tell Jumin that.
Relationships: Han Jumin/V | Kim Jihyun
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81
Collections: JuminV





	no man an island

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Jumin/V zine and while I liked the idea, I just can’t make it work. The whole piece is kinda set in stone and I can’t reword it so much as just rewrite the whole thing. Since I don’t want this piece to be completely wasted, I thought I’d just share it.

Wine. No, that wasn’t quite right. Jihyun took a deep breath—the smell was a combination of wine, ink, and the faintest trace of cat food. A smell that announced Jumin before any sound did. Quiet footsteps crossed the room, the scent growing stronger until a pair of familiar hands adjusted his collar. He smiled, embarrassed. “Is it that bad?”

“No, it’s passable,” Jumin replied succinctly, his words straight to the point as usual. Despite his clipped speech, his hands were gentle, smoothing down the crease. A nail scratched his throat and Jihyun resisted the urge to shiver. The sensation lingered nonetheless and his toes curled. “It was uneven.”

Jumin stepped back but the scent remained, imprinted on his collar. A touch of the familiar to carry around with him all day. With a sheepish smile, Jihyun felt his collar, pressing the cool cotton fabric to the pads of his fingers. It was impossible to gauge the difference between when he’d put the shirt on and now, the minuet adjustment that only Jumin could see, but he appreciated it nonetheless. “That might be a little hard for me to do.”

“That’s fine. I’m here,” Jumin assured softly.

There was something reassuring about his tone, something steadying about his words. A rush of warmth flooded Jihyun’s chest and he closed his eyes. “Yes, you are.” It was like clinging to a buoy in the middle of a flood. But that flood was the rest of his life and eventually he would swim on his own. “But I have to manage on my own.”

Silence filled the room. Jihyun squinted as though narrowing his eyes would make his sight any clearer, would bring Jumin’s face to sharp definition. As unreadable as his best friend was, Jihyun had learned long ago the slight tells of Jumin’s expressions, the curl of a lip or the subtle twitch of his arm. Now, blind as he was, all of Jumin was like a dark splotch of paint and Jihyun couldn’t find the painting in the colour.

-x-

“Try to follow my finger,” the doctor requested kindly. Sitting face to face, Jihyun could make out the white of her jacket, the dark circles of her hair, the plump roundness of her waist. Her face was a blank canvass, the details too fine, and he was reminded of horror movies filled with face-stealers. “First with your left eye.”

Obediently, he closed his right eye, half the world disappearing. He could hear the click of her pen, the soft rustle of her jacket as her arm moved. A finger was in front of him, but he couldn’t distinguish it from the mass of his doctor.

“And now the right.”

If anything, his right eye seemed weaker than the left. Jihyun could feel his eye narrow involuntarily, straining to notice the movement.

The pen clicked once more, a clipboard pulled out, and the doctor scribbled a note. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kim, Mr. Han, but I would consider you legally blind. I have checked your x-rays, but even just looking at the scarring around your eyes…I’m afraid it is not possible to fix your sight. No matter how talented the surgeon.”

“I had a feeling,” Jihyun sighed, sitting back in his seat. His back bumped against the hard metal back, his arms falling uselessly to his side. “Thank you for trying.”

“I understand,” Jumin said in a tone that indicated that he very much did not understand. That perhaps for the rest of his life he would never understand. That he refused to understand and it was useless to argue with him otherwise. “Is there a specialist you would recommend?”

“Several, but their verdicts will be no different than mine.” Her pen continued to scratch against the clipboard, only pausing when she realized Jumin was serious. “Their time is better spent on other patients.”

“Patients with a chance,” Jihyun added, saying the silent requirement. When the doctor flushed red, stuttering out an apology, he shook his head. “It’s fine. You’re not the first doctor I’ve seen.”

“Still, nonetheless, I am sorry.” The doctor was smiling, he was certain of it. He could hear it in her voice. “If you need help handling your situation, I can give several recommendations.”

“I already have several lists, but thank you.” Jihyun smiled at her. Noticing Jumin hadn’t moved, he reached down and gripped his hand. It was colder than he’d expected. Clammier. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Jumin answered, his voice emotionless as they got up and left the office. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “We have a few more appointments.”

“Jumin, they aren’t going to—”

“There are other specialists,” Jumin steamrolled over him, insistent. “One of them will have a solution.”

-x-

The overwhelming scent of fish flooded the room and Jihyun wrinkled his nose involuntarily. He had almost forgotten about Jumin’s latest cat project, creating a line of elite seafood with Elizabeth as the mascot. Looking over his easel, he watched as the dark blob of Jumin approached him. “Still deciding on a fish?”

Jumin slipped off his jacket, folding it over his arm. “No, I have decided to start with the Masked Angelfish to start with. The only issue was finding the freshest producer of it, but Assistant Kang managed to find two possible vendors within the day.”

Not for the first or last time, Jihyun felt pity for Jaehee. While Jumin had eased up recently, allowing her enough time to actually use her vacation days and _not_ look at her phone, the cat projects continued at a steady stream. “So it’s actually going forward.”

“Of course it is.” Jumin let out an inelegant snort. “Elizabeth will soon enjoy the finest meals.”

“I’m sure she already was.” Jihyun shook his head wryly.

“Even finer meals than before,” Jumin added. Standing next to Jihyun, he gazed at the canvas. “You haven’t painted since school.”

It was impressive how Jumin could make a statement sound like a question. Jihyun nodded, resisting the urge to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Cold paint was already hardening on the tips of his fingers and he didn’t want to smear them on his face as well. “I always wanted to go back to it.” He curled his fingers, resisting the urge to even further smudge his piece.

“And finger-painting?” Jumin asked, rolling his sleeve up to keep it clear from stray paint. He glanced around the room. “There’s no splatter.”

“Finger-painting isn’t necessarily messy,” Jihyun chuckled. “A brush is more precise than I’m ready for.”

“I see. A good first attempt.” Jumin leaned toward the painting, his fingers hovering over the canvas and tracing the strokes. “Though I am not certain what you’re painting.”

With a sheepish smile, Jihyun shrugged. “I wasn’t aiming for something. Just…playing with the paints. I don’t think I’ll ever open a gallery with this but it’s fun.”

“I see.” Jumin straightened up, his hand resting on Jihyun’s shoulders. “And your camera?”

The question felt more loaded than it should be. Jihyun could still picture the tripod, the large lens, the way the camera fit in his hands. His finger on the button, gently pressing it as the image slowly clarified. “Maybe one of the others can take it.”

Jumin’s grip tightened slightly, his nail just barely pushing into Jihyun’s skin. “The next doctor—”

“Will say the exact same thing,” Jihyun finished, reaching up to cover Jumin’s hand. There was something endearing about his friend’s worry, something that made his heart beat a little faster. “It’s okay. I’ll miss photography but…we can’t change this.” He gestured at his painting. “Besides, I’m not half bad at painting.”

Jumin was staring at him. That was all Jihyun could be sure of, that Jumin was staring at him and nothing else. The hand connecting them didn’t betray Jumin’s emotions, didn’t do anything but weigh on his shoulders heavily.

Finally, Jumin said dryly, “That means you’re only half good.”

-x-

Five.

Six.

A floral scent, slightly undercut by Jumin’s musky cologne. A strange mix, but he supposed he had Jaehee to thank for that. He wasn’t sure if the office could handle the fish smell any longer, though Elizabeth no doubt was disappointed.

Pushing aside his thoughts about Jumin’s scent, Jihyun counting until his foot bumped against the chair. “Twelve,” he accidentally muttered aloud.

“Twelve?” Jumin asked, setting down his briefcase. He loosened his tie, a soft sliding sound as the fabric moved.

“Twelve steps.” Jihyun turned toward Jumin, watching as his shape came closer and closer. “Between the door and the chair.”

“Steps.” Jumin knelt on the ground as Elizabeth strolled up to him. The bell on her collar chimed as she wound around his hands. “There are more efficient ways to measure distance.”

“Probably, but that’s not my intention.” Gripping the chair, Jihyun turned toward what he hoped was the bedroom. “I’m trying to map out the space.”

“That would make things easier for you.” Jumin cooed softly as he rubbed Elizabeth’s head. “I can move the furniture, if any are in the way.”

“No, that’s fine.” Slowly walking forward, he started counting again. “It’s practice for when I get home.” And if Jumin reacted, he didn’t notice.

-x-

There was some truth to the old adage: when one sense was gone, the others were heightened. A whole new world of sound, of smell, of touch had opened up to Jihyun. Things he had noticed before but never paid attention to.

Like then: the hard nail scratching his throat, his heartbeat quickening as Jumin’s breath warmed his skin. The scent of Jumin’s wine overwhelming his senses. 

Like then: the sharp intake as Jumin heard _No, we can’t fix his eyes_ for the nth time, his nails digging into his chair’s armrests. His cologne couldn’t hide the cold sweat running down his back, his hands clammy as Jihyun tried to grab them.

Like then: the feel of paint on his skin as he brushed the hard canvass, painting the modern art that his world now looked like. Swatches of colours, barely in the shape of people and things. The hardened paint breaking off his hands as he rubbed Jumin’s wrists.

Like then: the bitter edge as Jumin repeated _home_, a cold hardness he had never associated with his childhood companion. A cat’s purr filling in the silence, filling in the unsaid words that felt like they had form.

Like now: the soft sound of Jumin pacing in his bedroom, his feet threading the same pattern over and over. His voice was too low to make out, unintelligible mutters drifting out from behind the closed door. The soft bell of Elizabeth’s collar as she padded along behind him, curious about her master.

Like now: Jihyun standing on the other side, not sure if he should knock, not sure if he should ask. The words clogged in his throat, words that he usually gave life through a shutter-click or the stroke of a brush. Something had shifted between Jumin and him, something he might have known the word to once. But he couldn’t see Jumin’s face, couldn’t see his expression anymore, and he couldn’t remember the word anymore.

-x-

There was no fish, no flowers, no coffee, just the sharp scent of Jumin’s cologne as Jihyun approached Jumin’s chair in the living room. There was something fitting about that; he had finally reached the original scent just as he had to go. “Jumin.”

“Jihyun.” Jumin looked up. His expression must have given something away; Jumin set his phone down on the coffee table. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. Nothing. There was a distance between them that he didn’t understand. It was strange, but only after he realized he couldn’t see Jumin’s expressions anymore did he realize he was truly blind. Rubbing his arm, Jihyun closed his eyes. “Nothing. Just…I’ve had enough time to adjust. I think I’ll head home.”

Immediately, Jumin stood up. “No.”

Jumin was close, far too close. Jihyun could feel the heat radiating off his body and he took a step back. “I’ve imposed on you long enough.”

“It’s not imposing,” Jumin said sharply. His foot ground into the floor. “You can’t even navigate on your own.”

“I’m improving.” Jihyun turned away. Even as a blob, it was too hard to look at Jumin. “I can manage a lot now. And anything else, I can always get help.”

“You can get help.” While he had always been concise, his words were even shorter than usual. “Here.”

“I might never leave then.” Jihyun ran hand through his hair, turning toward the guest bedroom. “And that isn’t—” He stopped short as Jumin gripped his wrist, rooting him in place.

“Don’t.” Jumin’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, quieter than a butterfly’s wings. Even the sound of his heartbeat, of his breathing threatened to drown out the sound. “Don’t.”

His breath caught. Swallowing, Jihyun peered up, wishing he could see Jumin’s face. “Jumin?”

“Let me help you.” Even at his weakest, he’d never seen Jumin plead. And this was pleading, this was vulnerability, this was a man at his lowest.

“You have.” Jihyun stepped closer, reaching up to squeeze Jumin’s shoulder. “A lot.”

“Have I?” Without warning, Jumin engulfed him in a hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His breath was warm and this time, Jihyun couldn’t supress the shudder that ran down his spine. Mumbling onto his skin, Jumin shook his head. “Let me help.”

“You have.” His arms hung awkwardly at his sides before he slowly reached up, hugging Jumin back. There was something comforting about this, something he had forgotten long ago. “You let me stay here. You—”

“Ever since you came, you were preparing to go.” Jumin stated, his grip tightening.

Rubbing Jumin’s back soothingly, he answered, “Because I have to. I can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Jihyun trailed off. It sounded so simple, when Jumin said it. Why did he have to go? Why did he have to leave? To be independent. To walk on his own. But he had tried that before and that’s how he ended here, blind and full of mistakes. Pulling back, Jumin stared at him. His face was a hair away and still Jihyun couldn’t see anything, couldn’t make out the face he used to know better than the back of his hand.

“Stay,” Jumin breathed and in that moment, Jihyun couldn’t say no.

“Stay,” Jumin breathed, and in that moment he closed the gap, his lips pressing firmly to his.

There were words Jihyun used to know. They came back, one by one, as he tangled his hand in Jumin’s hair, as he memorized the texture of Jumin’s lips. Trust. Reliance.

Love.

And oh, that was what he had been feeling all this time. That funny motion that made his chest feel tight and free at the same time. Running out of oxygen, he pulled back, pressing his forehead against Jumin’s as he gasped for breath. Jumin was still a hairbreadth’s away, so close he could kiss him again, but he resisted the urge.

“I need to feel your face,” Jihyun said, his hands already reaching up. There were no protests as his fingers gently sculpted the planes of Jumin’s cheeks, the ridge’s of his nose. The lips, still warm and wet from their kiss. Delicate eyelashes, thick eyebrows, Jihyun mapped out the face he’d known so well. A pleased rumble ran through Jumin at the touch, a rumble that Jihyun could feel to his core, and perhaps he didn’t need to see to understand Jumin’s emotions. Not anymore. They were still there for him to read, in the curl of his lip, the crinkle of his eyes, the hard lines of his forehead.

A book that only he could read.

Jumin didn’t say anything but Jihyun could sense him waiting. Gently cupping Jumin’s face, he stated, “I’m blind.”

Closed eyes. A deep breath. Voice thick with emotion, Jumin quietly admitted, “Yes.”

“And it can’t be fixed.” When Jumin opened his mouth to protest, Jihyun shook his head. “It can’t.”

“…yes.”

Jihyun smiled, his thumb rubbing circles on Jumin’s cheeks. Leaning forward, he closed the gap between them. “Then, I’m home.”


End file.
